Trouble in the Woods
by SamanthaTheWriter
Summary: As a detective, Wolf is a little weathered around the edges, hardened by the job. With a feisty girl in a red hood at his side and a murder mystery to solve, does he have what it takes to catch the killer of their victim: an innocent grandmother figure? (Short One Shot; Detective AU)


**Yeah so I made this a while ago haha .-.  
Not much to say so enjoy? :D**

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 **Trouble in the Woods**

Samantha XXXX – Creative Writing, 10/24/13

Based loosely off of "Little Red Riding Hood."

 **08/03/13**

 **6:47 PM**

The streets of New York were narrow and dark, streetlamps dimly illuminating the pavement with a thin veil of yellow light. There was the unmistakable trace of smoke that tainted the air with a bitter scent, and yet the air was thick and warm on the skin.

Detective Wolf couldn't think straight in the heat of the city. His head was pounding and he could feel the roar of blood in his ears. There was a grim scowl on his face that deepened with every slight ache, and he wanted nothing more than to rest in the shade of his nice, air-conditioned apartment. Grumbling slightly, Wolf ran a calloused, worn hand through chestnut hair and handed the taxi driver a twenty before slamming the door shut.

There was already a crowd forming around the bright yellow tape that surrounded the crime scene, which happened to be a civilian's house. Wolf grabbed the badge out of his back pocket and flipped it open just as he reached the guarding officer, who let out a satisfied grunt and nodded curtly, lifting the tape up enough so that he could duck underneath it. Tucking his I.D. away, he walked through the open door and spotted a familiar face just as she looked up, her brow furrowing at his sudden appearance.

"Well, look who decided to show up." He heard her mumble under her breath, charging forward through the swarm of agents and the police. Wolf managed to catch a glimpse at the red jacket that she had hugged tightly around herself before she stopped before him, concerned at his well-being and yet distressed at the same time. Wolf had to suppress a smirk as she took a deep breath and softened her expression enough so that she could glance at him curiously.

"You look well, Red." Wolf managed to say at her frenzied appearance.

"Don't toy with me, _Wolf_." She put a lot of emphasis on his name, "I look dreadful."

He couldn't actually argue with her on this one. She really did look awful. Mousy brown hair had been pulled up sloppily into a ponytail, which swayed behind her as she walked. Her knuckles were white and chalky, and there was something in those emerald eyes of hers that unsettled him for some odd reason. He could only describe the look as glassy, and they were emerald green with brownish flecks lining the iris. Pine tree eyes, he mentally caught the word. They were definitely pine tree eyes.

"So, you want to catch me up?" Wolf put on a crooked smile. Red let out a shaky breath before walking forward a few steps. She turned to face him, hesitantly beckoning him to follow.

"Lindsey Song, Wolf. She's 67 years old, turning 68 next month. She's retired, no enemies, just your average 'grandmother' figure. I don't understand why anybody would want to kill her." Red shuddered involuntarily, something that caused her to grab her jacket and adjust it so it fit more accordingly. Wolf stared at the unmoving body on the middle of the laminated kitchen floor and averted his eyes quickly, avoiding the greyish blue eyes that looked without seeing and the coldness of her expression. Red caught Wolf's eye and sighed.

"Any suspects?" He wondered how on earth she could wear a jacket in this type of weather. It was boiling hot inside the room, especially with all the body heat being spread around the cramped space.

"Actually, that's the good news." Red managed a somber smile at the thought, "We've already got our murderer."

"Already?" Wolf had to raise an eyebrow at that, mildly amused but still skeptical, "Well, don't leave me hanging, who is it?"

"This guy named…Woody Hopkins." She checked the clipboard in her hands, which he hadn't noticed before. She didn't seem to notice how he bit his tongue to hold back a protesting remark, "We found the fingerprint, his own watch scattered underneath the kitchen counter. We got him, Wolf. To be completely honest, I'm not even sure why you bothered to come here. We've got it all covered." She hinted at, checking through the various papers and showing him the photos. Sure enough, it was Woody's watch, and the greasy fingerprint had also been photographed, covered in some kind of film to preserve it as evidence against him.

"Let's just say that Woody…was a friend of mine. I owe him a favor, and he helped me out of some hard times, so I figure I might as well try out this case." Wolf mumbled to himself, "Plus, everything seems too...clean-cut, I guess, too perfect. All the evidence was easily located. I guess I'm just being suspicious is all."

"You think too much, Wolf." Red replied, doubtful of his analysis of the situation, "And just because you knew Woody a while back doesn't mean he didn't do it. People change, Wolf." Red turned her back to him and trotted off to snap some more photos of the body, leaving him alone with nothing but his thoughts."

 **08/04/13**

 **2:13 PM**

"You don't remember anything that could help us with the situation? At all?"

Woody was staring at Wolf's feet guiltily. There was definitely something wrong, but Wolf couldn't place it. Woody shifted uneasily and finally looked up before speaking in a low, gravelly tone.

"I'm telling you, Wolf, I didn't do it. I promise you that. I…I'm not a murderer. You know that." he said, restraining himself, giant meaty hands clenched in fists.

Woody was a towering giant, with a baldish head and features that resembled a bulldog. He wore a murky, green plaid shirt, and was picking at the buttons that connected with his collar. He was a little hard to describe, and packed a lot of weight. He reminded Wolf of a rugby player, except more muscular and more…rugged, in a sense. Woody was crude, hotheaded, and not afraid to get violent. He could see where Red was going with Woody being the killer, what with his temper and all.

But Wolf knew better. He could tell that, rough and dumb as he may be, Woody wasn't a bad person.

"Woody, you've got to give me something here. I'm trying to help you." Wolf tried one last attempt to convince the larger man of his good intentions, "But throw this old dog a bone, would you? I can't help you if you shut me out."

Woody seemed to contemplate it for a second, his jaw unclenching and the gears in his head seeming to turn a little, but then shook his head, his jaw stubbornly grinding.

"I'm sorry Wolf, but you wouldn't understand. Now please, just go and leave me alone."

Wolf sighed, shrugging his shoulders, and walking away back to his car.

 **08/08/13**

 **2:41 AM**

There was a knock on the door, a quiet one that was undisturbed and soft against the wood.

Wolf didn't mind. He'd been awake the last few hours merely thinking over the scenario. He couldn't place it, but there was something that didn't fit. He trudged over to the door, unlocking it carelessly and welcoming his just-as-sleepy partner inside his home.

Red sat down at his couch politely, still wearing the same red jacket, which was actually more like a cloak. She had the hood up and framing her face and her hair was down. It curled inward and coiled slightly around her shoulders as she stifled a yawn. Those same pine tree eyes stared up at him, dark bags badly complimenting the gold sparks that flashed in her orbs.

"You haven't been able to sleep either, huh?" Wolf said, his voice drawn over with lethargy. She wordlessly nodded.

"Yeah, I…I've been thinking about the case." She admitted, looking around and judging his housing conditions, "This place is a mess."

She was right. An empty box of pizza lay forgotten on the kitchen table, the lights above their head flickering unstably. The fabric of the sofa was patched and ripped, the red coloring stained with different foods and liquids. The ceiling fan that was circling wildly looked like it was going to fly off, and in every corner of the room there was mold growing in the corners. A thin layer of dust sheeted everything finely, and he had had to leave mouse traps lying around the corners of the house to catch the rats that kept crawling around the floors.

It certainly wasn't perfect, but it was home.

He waved her off, turning his attention to a desk that served as his place of operations. He had scattered photos and documents describing the crime scene, and studied them intently, eyeing the report on the time and method of death.

"Ms. Song was burned to death?" he asked, not sure if he was reading it right.

"Yep. Lindsey was fixing up her hair with a curling iron, and the culprit must've snuck in and struck her with it, right…here." Red pointed her to own cheek, right above her cheekbone, "There was definitely a struggle, though. We found skin under her nails, so Ms. Song must've put up a fight and raked her nails on someone's skin."

"But…" Wolf ran a hand over his hair, which was sure looked awful at this time of day, "Woody didn't have any claw marks." He suddenly remembered, thinking back to the interrogation.

Red only nodded. "Yes, I suppose...but, we can't exactly prove that it wasn't him. The skin under her nails isn't enough to scan for DNA evidence, so we don't know who Ms. Song had scratched." she countered, sighing and massaging her temple.

"I guess so…" Wolf said, uncertainly, "Who was the last person to see Ms. Song alive?"

"Well, I can't say for certain, but Lindsey's neighbor, Nancy Sullivan, arranged to meet with her to discuss some kind of...fundraising campaign, I believe, but Mrs. Sullivan claims she postponed the meeting for next week a few hours before her death." Red pondered for a moment before answering. Wolf nodded, now sitting in his desk chair and using one elbow against the table to support his head.

"Goodnight, Wolf." He heard Red murmur to him before his eyes snapped shut, and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

 **08/09/13**

 **4:59 PM**

"Excuse me, Mrs. Sullivan; can I speak to you for a moment?"

Wolf approached the lady with warm golden eyes and soft blonde hair, who chewed a piece of gum loudly as she strolled right past him and opened the door to her car. Wolf followed suit, trying to be polite before she finally turned. He could see that her eyes were red and puffy, most likely from the death of Ms. Song.

"Please, no pictures. I'd hate to be shown in the news like this." She sniffed. Wolf didn't notice much else about her other than the thick woolen scarf that was wrapped thickly around her neck. It was a little odd to see her wearing such a heavy article of clothing in this weather, which was boiling hot.

"I'm not a reporter," Wolf said slowly, "I'm Detective Wolf. I'm here to ask about the death of Lindsey Song?" Nancy seemed to settle down a little at the sound of that, and invited him inside her house. The place looked a little cheap, almost empty with a lack of being loved and cared for. Wolf vaguely remembered reading something in Mrs. Sullivan's report that said she had recently lost a lot of money due to her husband's gambling addiction. As he walked through the door, he smelled faint traces of jasmine perfume and cookies, and took a seat on the maroon sofa that lay invitingly out for him.

Mrs. Sullivan sat down in a chair across from him, folding her hands in her lap and watching for Wolf's expression. He took a deep breath, feeling her calculating gaze fall on him.

"Mrs. Sullivan, not to be rude, but do you know where your husband is?" he tried to remain nonchalant and polite.

"He's out on a 'business' trip, or so he claims. In all honesty, I'll bet he's gambling away our money." She sighed, picking at her nails distractedly as he noted the sour note in her tone. Wolf only nodded, attempting to steer clear of any topic of her husband from that point on.

"So, Mrs. Sullivan, what can you tell me about Ms. Song?"

"Oh, dear." She sighed, her eyes glazing over with tears, "Lindsey was a strong, confident woman. I – I don't know who would want to do this. It's just so horrible." She fanned herself softly, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief that seemed to have materialized in her satiny hands.

"Did she have any enemies?" Wolf fidgeted awkwardly in his seat at the sight of her sobbing over the loss of her neighbor. She turned to look at him, and smiled sympathetically.

"You're new to this neighborhood, aren't you?" she began gently. When Wolf gave a look that could only be described as confused, she continued, "Lindsey was beloved by everyone here. She knew everybody here, and everybody knew her. She always was a bucket of smiles and sunshine, and people came to her to talk out their problems. She was better," Nancy chuckled quietly to herself, "…than any therapist in New York, I'll tell you that much. Lindsey did a lot of good, Detective." She finished finally, letting out a deep breath.

"It's a little warm for a scarf, isn't it?" Wolf finally burst out subtly, and for one moment the glossy, nurturing look in her eyes was lost and replaced with a defensive, suppressed glare.

"Well, I get rather chilly quite easily, believe you me. So, I believe that's all?" she cut their conversation short quickly and hastily, and stood up to escort him outside. Wolf followed her, reaching out a hand to grab her arm.

"Wait, I've got just one more question." He stammered, and she pulled out of his grasp to look up at his tall, hulking figure.

"Well, there always seems to be one, unanswered question in life, isn't there?" she said, her voice flat. And with that, Nancy Sullivan left the room and trotted upstairs, leaving the detective alone and very, very confused.

 **08/11/13**

 **7:32 PM**

It didn't seem right.

There was something wrong with the situation. Wolf knew that much. The problem was, the bits didn't glue themselves together correctly, like forcing two separate puzzle pieces against each other and expecting them to fall into place.

Woody looked even worse than before. The guards allowed him access to Woody for a five minute talk, and even then they kept him behind bars. Wolf stared at Woody, pitying the innocent man as he hunched down, the larger man's shoulders sagging with burdened weight.

"Woody," Wolf coaxed him lightly, "I don't think you did it."

Woody looked up, shooting him a half-glare and then returning to sulk.

"What does it matter, Wolf? We both know they've got me between a rock and a hard place. I either confess to a crime I didn't commit to get less time in prison, or I stick to my beliefs and get stuck with a longer sentence. I'd much rather get out more quickly, thank you very much."

"It doesn't have to be this way, Woody. Plead not guilty. Fight this out, just until I find some more evidence to prove you're–" Wolf didn't have any more time to convince him before Woody snapped, angrily standing up from his seat and staring down at him with sad, dark eyes through the tall metal bars.

"Yes it does, Wolf. Don't you get it? It's over for me." He lowered his head in shame, his voice stony cold, hiding away emotion that begged to be released.

There was a soft nudge on Wolf's shoulder from a guard, the signal that his time was almost up. He turned to leave, but spun around to face Woody at the last moment. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "At least tell me why you were there. Why the evidence was scattered everywhere. Why the court has such easy proof against you."

Woody shook his head slightly, but then held his head in his hands and mumbled, "I…I went to Lindsey's house that day. By the time I got there, she was already dead. I panicked, and bumped into the kitchen counter, left my fingerprint and watch behind. It was an accident, and bad timing, but I swear I didn't kill her." Wolf huffed out a loud breath, and another question had bubbled up in his head.

"Why did you run, then? You should've told someone, at least me." He asked.

"Wolf, I visited Lindsey's house…to rob her. She had a lot of cash on her hands, at least enough for a cushy retirement. I didn't want to get caught." He sounded miserable as he confessed, "I may be a thief, but I ain't a murderer."

Wolf didn't say anything else, but nodded once, and turned to leave.

 **08/14/13**

 **1:21 PM**

Wolf didn't know what got to him, but all of a sudden, while chomping down on a dry, tasteless cheeseburger in a hamburger joint, the puzzle came together in his head. The scratch, the nails under Ms. Song's fingernails, the scarf that Nancy had wrapped around her neck tightly, as if to hide some unwanted piece of evidence, the money that she and her husband needed desperately.

He left directly after it had dawned on him, slapping a fifty on the table and forgetting to wait for change.

Nancy was packing her bags, rushing around her room to stuff clothes and other prized possessions in a single duffel bag. He would later learn that she had planned to leave the country, demonstrated when she patted the pockets of her jeans for her passport and felt it in the back. She gripped the handle of the suitcase and turned to face a very tall, very intimidating detective, who was standing by the door.

Immediately she staggered back, falling onto her bed even though he hadn't moved a step towards the woman. She sighed, dropping the bag to the ground and closing her eyes in defeat, her hands already above her head. Wolf clucked his tongue, staring at her with nothing but indifference.

"Take off your scarf, Nancy."

She opened her eyes, staring down at the violet scarf that draped around her neck. Wordlessly, her fingers trembled as she undid the scarf and pulled it off her, setting it down on the bed. He sighed, his previous prediction correct as the three claw marks on the side of her collar revealed themselves.

The scars were scabbed over and turning a soft, faded pink, but were definitely visible. She had broken into a cold sweat before he advanced towards her, grabbing her hands and holding her in place as the handcuffs clicked against her wrists with a soft pop.

"Mrs. Nancy Sullivan, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford one, one will be appointed to you..."

 **08/17/13**

 **11:33 PM**

"You know, I've got to hand to you."

That was what Red had told Wolf right as she entered his apartment. He merely smiled coyly, soaking up the attention. She tossed him a newspaper, which he caught effortlessly and glanced at. The title read, "PRIME SUSPECT RELEASED – MRS. NANCY SULLIVAN CONFESSED TO THE MURDER OF LINDSEY SONG." Scanning the smaller text, he caught up on how Woody had been let go from the murder charges, and that Nancy was now held accountable for the murder. He sighed, remembering her shaky figure and the way she had nearly burst with guilt.

"I would've never suspected Lindsey's neighbor. I don't know how you did it, but you did it. Good job, Wolf." Red complimented him, her red jacket now tied around her waist and hair up in a messy bun. Pine tree eyes stared at his casual form, as he leaned against his desk and fell onto his couch.

"It was nothing. Besides, I heard partaking in this case got you a promotion, so I figure this did you some good too, huh?" he said, recalling how Red had supported him the past three days in his theory that Nancy was the culprit, "If it wasn't for you, I doubt I alone would've been able to convince the court to release Woody on charges of murder."

"How is Woody, anyways?" Red asked, curious and a little guilty for accusing him for a crime he didn't commit. Wolf's expression darkened considerably as she stared at his almost glowering face. "Wolf, you ok?"

"They're trying to arrest him for attempted theft," he said finally, "I offered to find him a good lawyer and such, but he stopped me, Red. Said he needed to pay for his crimes." He rolled his eyes and stared out the window wistfully. "He's pleading guilty."

"Wolf, I'm sorry, for what it's worth." Red said, her heart sinking at the thought of Wolf's "wasted" efforts to hand Woody a clean slate.

"Don't be. If he feels he has to do this, he should go right ahead."

"Well, I'll be seeing you around then, right? What with your reputation already rising in popularity?" she joked, knowing that his career was already off on a high point.

"Well, hopefully I'll get some more cases. Chances are I won't be getting rid of you for a while now." He said with a straight face, "So I suppose…yes. But, let's keep this one case at a time, ok?"

Red flashed her pearly whites, her hands on the open door as she readied to leave the apartment.

"Sure thing, Detective."


End file.
